She could not see how the uniform looked on her, but it was uncomfortable to wear. The assemblage of the t-shirt under a long-sleeved military blouse somehow more bleached than her alabaster skin, tucked into a pair of utility pants of the same color, and boots which were the same shade as the other garments with the exception of golden soles made Ninon feel like she was being weighed down. But the service dress uniform she was had to wear was the least of her worries.

She waved a hand over the sensor that opened the sliding door of the storage room and awaiting her in the same uniform was Alda. A light smile lit up on the woman’s face.

“You look very lovely in that, Princess Ninon.” she tried to lighten the girl’s damp mood.

“This has all happened too fast. I wish things could slow down, even for a bit.” the girl sighed.

“You know there is no other choice. We will not let the General get her way again.”

Ninon’s hand flew to the back of her neck, gently rubbing on a small piece of gauze that had been securely taped on, covering a surgical wound.

“So she won’t find me after this?” she wondered.

“The chip’s gone. It’ll take a very long time for the General to find you now. Although, by the time she gets to you, I believe she will have already been taken care of.”

Ninon nodded wearily. The morning sun had just breached the horizon, and there was no more time to waste. In fact, Rhona had to have already awaken and begun her morning routine, unaware that her niece was to flee the moon. Despite there being clear proof that she wanted to get rid of her, Ninon still could not bear hate towards her aunt. It was all still very confusing. But Alda was right. There was only one thing she could do to avoid, or at least delay, that fate.

“Let’s go, then.” Ninon said. Alda handed the girl her luggage, and through the same cellar door they had covertly entered the palace, they departed, stepping through the garden. The hazy brown color that always dominated the Titanian sky loomed far above their heads. Ninon tried to savour it one last time before she couldn’t, and her feet slowed down to a shuffle. Alda tried to gently pull her forward, but then, the voices of two men cried in their direction.

Ninon froze. Had they been caught already? Had their great escape already ended before it even started?

“Your Highness!” they cried, as they approached the two women with a jog.

“Stay calm, my Princess,” Alda stepped up to cover Ninon with her body. “I’ll handle this.”

“Leaving the palace at such an hour?” Count Moller, the steward of the palace asked, crossing his arms.

“No one enters or exits this garden without my knowledge,” Brin, the head keeper of the garden spoke. “You’re not quite as sneaky as you think you are.”

Alda narrowed her eyes, her hand stealthily reaching for the gun in her utility belt.

I’ve worked under the same roof as them for years, but I will take them out. No hesitation.

“It doesn’t concern you. Her Highness doesn’t answer to you, nor to anyone in this palace.” Alda’s tone was defensive, but not yet inviting a conflict.

“We know that. We just wanted to know where you are headed off to through the garden at a time like this,” Moller said, standing next to Brin to create a barricade. “It doesn’t seem quite right. Do you agree, Ser Brin?”

“Indeed I do, Count Moller.” the gardener smirked.

“Your curiosity doesn’t merit Her Highness’ attention. I will give you no warnings after this.” Alda said, her voice sharp like a dagger.

“Alda, wait.” Ninon said, putting a hand on her servant’s shoulder.

“We cannot take any chances, Princess Ninon,” Alda said without taking her eyes off of the two men. “We have to assume that anyone who suspects our actions is a threat. It matters not who they are.”

“We were just wondering…” Moller stepped to one side, partially revealing an object behind him that was placed beforehand.

“…where you were heading to without him!” Brin moved to the other side, fully unveiling the object. It was a metal box with handles, about knee high. The gardener flicked open a latch, swinging the lid open. A small purple head poked out of the box. It and the rest of the reptilian body it was attached to scurried out, hopping over to rest at Ninon’s feet.

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At the sight of the young dragon, Alda’s stance relaxed.

“I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about you, Daemu!” the princess said as she kneeled on the ground.

“When I went to clean his enclosure a few minutes ago, I found him scratching at the wall facing the garden. I decided to take him there with Brin. Lo and behold… we found you.”

“S-So you know what we’re doing, then?” Ninon asked, looking up at the two men.

“What other explanation is there, Your Highness?” Brin posited.

“Will you let us pass then, gentlemen?” Alda queried, still not prepared to fully trust either man.

“We won’t say a thing, Your Highness and Miss Silje. Your business isn’t ours at all. We’re mere servants of the palace.” Brin said with humility, placing a hand over his heart.

“If—no, when Aunt Rhona finds out that you—

“We don’t care. We only answer to the Crown, not the Military. If she decides she believes she can use her power as Regent to do as she likes… then so be it!” Count Moller proclaimed with pride.

Ninon knew what could become of them if Rhona found out they had abetted in her escape, but there was no point in sulking. Alda was already putting her life on the line. A couple more people in the same position would barely mean anything.

Would it?

“You will be the one to rightfully wear the crown, Your Highness. Our loyalty is to you. Fear not. We will do what we must to keep your secret safe.”

Brin and Moller both took a knee, lowering their heads before the head the crown was truly destined to sit on. Ninon then stepped before them, looking down at the space before them.

I may not even become Empress. But these men know that it’s a title only I can proclaim. I will respect their choices. I’d rather they be on a path they fully believe in themselves than any other.

“You are very honourable gentlemen. You put your ideals first, before anything. Even my Aunt’s power. I’ve had the pleasure of living under the same roof you both have taken care of for the better part of a decade. I’ll leave it in your care from today. As the prospective bearer of the Crown, I have one final request to make.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” The men said nearly in unison.

“Take Daemu to Lady Oanez Tveit’s home and transfer him to her care. Tell her that I’ve… I’ve gone missing. Make it seem as real as possible. And act normally in front of the General, please.”

“Princess Ninon…” Alda wanted to intervene, but Ninon stopped her.

“You cut out the chip in my nape, but there’s also the chance there’s one in Daemu too. I don’t want this sweet boy to be involved in this. Oanez will take good care of him. She’ll know just what to do.” she said as the young dragon nuzzled itself against the princess’ shin.

“…which is why I didn’t collect him. Good choice, my Princess.” Alda spoke observantly.

“Yes, Your Highness. We are completely in your service.” The gardener and steward both said in almost a chant, as soon as Ninon and Alda finished their short discussion.

“I will repay this favour a thousandfold when I return, whenever that may be.” Ninon spoke with the humility and grace expected of a woman much older. “I promise you that.”

Moller, still kneeling, stretched one of his hands out before Ninon. It took her a moment to understand, but she realized what he was trying to do. She offered him her right hand, and he brought it to his lips, touching it lightly with them.

“All hail… the blood of Halsten.” Moller said, changing the centuries-old saying that was meant as respect to those who hailed from the lineage of Bence, the first sole ruler of Karesti blood.

Brin then did the same, only repeating what Moller had said with more confidence.

The quiet revolt that was now Ninon Karesti’s way of existence had gained its first two supporters, but she could not spend any more time with them. After exchanging farewells, Ninon and Alda soon found themselves on a road-based Craft, being driven by the latter. While the princess had always sat in the back, this time, she found herself up front in the passenger seat.

“You can really see the road from here,” Ninon said, distracting herself from the flurry of dreadful thoughts in her head. Anyone who would interact with her from then on would risk facing Rhona’s wrath, one that not even the most socially powerful Titanians would be spared from, let alone two servants. “So, this is what rush hour looks like.”

Crafts were practically bumper-to-bumper on the motorway that led to Xanadu Airport at that hour. Ninon never knew that her last moments on Titan for the foreseeable future would be spent staring at the rear of another Craft.

“This is the life I’d live had your mother not come to my dorm that evening,” Alda recanted that moment from her past, a slight giggle to her voice. “This might seem strange to you, but it is quite normal for everyone else. Take a good look at it. As a future potential Empress, it’s a good thing to experience what your subjects experience each day.”

“An Empress who might’ve just signed the death warrants of her two loyal subjects.” Ninon turned her head, glancing out the side window next to her.

“They were willing to do it. Their sheer dedication to you prompted them to do what they wholeheartedly believe in,” Alda tried to remind the girl, who only sighed drearily in response.

“Would me staying here cause less people to die? What do you think, Alda?” Ninon softly spoke, her words only a tone louder than a whisper.

“Your aunt will likely take some lives either way. What’s important is that those deaths aren’t in vain, that those lives stood for something. Your mutiny is a fine thing to stand for. They’re not just people being thrown away. They’re… martyrs.”

A few moments later, a seemingly arbitrary giggle erupted from Ninon’s mouth.

“What’s gotten into you, Princess Ninon? Now isn’t a time for you to be laughing.” Alda spoke, keeping her eyes fixed on the road ahead, hands firmly gripped on the steering wheel.

“I—I just remembered Oanez. If she heard what you said just now, she’d fall off of her chair and laugh until her face somehow changed colour and then call you something like a scholar in peasant’s clothing,” Ninon’s laughter increased in intensity for several seconds, before tapering off. “I’ll sure miss that girl. No one’s made me giggle as hard as she does.”

Before long, the grand terminals of the Xanadu Spaceport appeared before their eyes. After passing the Craft off to a valet, Alda and Ninon gazed at the one of the hundreds of automatic sliding doors that provided entry to the Off-Moon Terminal.

“Are you ready, Lance Corporal Elric?” Alda asked, making no eye contact with the teenager standing three feet to her left.

“I have no choice but to, Major Marcoh.” Ninon spoke with conviction, fixing the collar of her blouse.